It's All Under Control
by KiraCaseAgent
Summary: Latula fixes Mituna's problem with Cronus is a certain, abrupt way.


"Nobody likes a child who complains," Cronus explained, obnoxiously moving the supposed cigarette he refused to light. Mituna would always notice the small things like this, and it ticked him off. The profuse movement did not cease, despite any disapproving input given. You could even go to such lengths in saying that these motions were more annoying than Ampora's statements; to the later. Meenah, on the other hand, could care less about the twitchy demeanor. "I won't be that child anymore!" Mituna retorted, crossing his arms in defiance, in all his lisping, stuttering glory. It's easier said than done.

Cronus left the scene. He was proud of himself, his eyes closed, raising his nose in the air like a top-class rich man. The slits of his nostrils represented those of a shark. This was only another setback on his transformation into human anatomy – his dream. However, his posture was lazy and slack. Hands in his pockets, slinking back on some invisible wall. Hipster walk. Mituna watched as he had dismissed himself and only responded with a "humph!" Everything Cronus did seem counterproductive and half-assed all the time. Oddly enough, it seems Captor is a perfectionist, given his standards and conditions. Without his speech problem, he would be normal – beside his habit to have outbursts of frustration. Running up to his matesprit in view, easily detected by the bright red hues against the gradient teal upon her outfit, he yelled the word "Tula!" This is what Latula has been hearing for the past few sweeps, being called to her from any direction, depending on the day. You can't say it isn't sweet, a pet name of sorts… but it gets repetitive after a while. It is simply worn out. She couldn't bear to deny him of this small pleasure of his, though.

"Hey!" she said, extending the end of the word. Catching up to his enthusiasm, she hugged him tightly. She didn't expect a returning gesture. Looking up at her partner, she examined the red and teal-ish blue covers on his helmet, to encourage a subject they could talk about. "What's up?" she continued after a bit. At this point, she felt as if she were prodding at him to say something, and it felt as if she should just wait. Obviously, though, she wasn't a troll of patience. Luckily, he was just staring off into space. After regaining himself, he made a frown. "Cronus made fun of me all day!" he explained.

This is a conversation starter often used between them, since it apparently happened a lot. It saddened her heart and dampened her attitude whenever it was brought up, but Latula was also getting tired of this way of doing things. She knew she shouldn't meddle. Though, she was going to do so anyway. "Maybe I should talk to him." She played with his dark bangs peaking out of his helmet, leaning her head against his chest now. Her voice was always calmer with him, as opposed to the usual, where she would become excited when brought anything that could possibly be enthused.

"That's a bad idea." He shook his head, "I don't want you to be made fun of, either." It would've been so romantic if it didn't have to be forced through his teeth. It took him about three tries to succeed the sentence, but was afterward vaguely smug about his accomplishment. That's so cute. "I don't think so. I don't get offended a lot, you know…" she trailed off, growing more and more relaxed as her own hair was being stroked in consolation. Behind her rose-tinted glasses, her eyes succumbed to closing for a few seconds. "Still." he affirmed. The secret behind ridding his speech impediment was to make him calm. However, that didn't work forever.

Latula moved slightly in thought, which is something she tended to do. It was as if her nervous system responded to her mood. "Please?" she questioned. Silence made sure to present itself for a while. "If you _really_ want to… but you have to be sure." He made sure to enunciate slowly, to get it right – just to prove that this was a serious matter to him. "I really want to! As a matter of fact, I'll go right now!" She smiled, jumping up from the once-thoughtful embrace. She boarded herself around, trying to find the target.

She searched vehemently for a white shirt with short sleeves, broken in its peace by a sudden burst of sea-dweller purple. To be honest, she always found his style a little 'rad.' Though, no one would compliment that bastard in a million years! Her wheels crossed paths with little rocks and earth's sudden declines, but she continued with the same ambition, unfazed. "Cronus, where'd you go?!" she shouted, kicking her foot against the ground and propelling herself. Porrim looked a bit confused, as she was just enjoying a nice rest outside – careful not to get run over by the truly painful transportation device.

And there he was, in the flesh. He was standing, actually supported by a tangible wall this time, chewing on the base of his cigarette; filthy. He seemed to be puzzled about Latula's appearance, looking up from his shoes and tilting his head to a curious angle. At this point, his mouth was slightly agape and he was prepared for the talking of a lifetime.

"So, how's that cigarette, Cronus?" she asked, huffing under her winded breath after stopping her skateboard. She placed her hand behind her head in an attempt to lower her heart rate. But then she realized, she's _dead_. Wow, get with the program. "It's…" He didn't bother. She wasn't paying any attention anyway.

After calming herself, Latula explained the situation through exuberant explosion noises and excessive hand movements. It was truly mundane, saying things such as, "This is you, and this is you in three seconds! BOOM." It was a silly display. Her story was told, and Cronus was beaten with a certain white four-wheeled device for quite a while.

She returned to Mituna with a smile on her face. "Did you talk to him?" he asked. "I sure did." The rest of the night, they were cuddled up together. Two ridiculous people like these belong together.


End file.
